"We aren't supposed to be here!" The girl tugged at her companion's arm. "We'll get in huge trouble!" She continued agitatedly. The boy turned. "I know what I'm doing!" He announced in a light, exasperated voice. "Let off for a bit!" "No," the girl muttered, but silenced as the other ducked into an alley. Rolling her large, dark eyes, the stocky brunette followed.
The boy's face was lit with impatient glee at the sight of the building out from the other end of the back street. The dragon pits. Eager, he ran out into the larger road, and a breeze knocked his jaunty red cap from hid head-revealing a tumble of shoulder length light red hair. Franticly, the child grabbed at the hat, and ducked back to her friend. "Now you've done it, Rekka! Just great, now-" she all but yelled. Rekka slapped her hand over the brunette's mouth. "Vikki, no one saw me! If you keep shouting, we'll be caught for sure!" Vikki shut up, and Rekka removed her hand. "I am going to that match, if rabid wyrms try to stop me." "Still?" Vikki demanded, with just the slightest edge of sarcasm in her horrified voice. "I swore I'd get in there, didn't I? And tonight! It has to be tonight! Desert Flame's fighting tonight.
This shut Vikki up for a bit. Her slender, redheaded friend was rather skinny and had a light, almost pale complexion. People often mistook her for unhealthy, butVikki knew Rekka was a rebel with a stubborn streak wider than a dragon's tale was long, and that she was stronger than she looked. And she knew Rekka loved that half-grown dragon more than water and food. Rekka and Vikki were bondservants on a harsh, isolated, desert hemmed hatchery, but none the less a prestigious one. The Caron family had never been a bond one, and had great influence in politics. However, the most recent master, a skilled and wily, if rather pompous, man with both dragon and diplomatic talents had passed away (rumors spoke of mysterious circumstances), leaving his son to the position. The younger Caron was a young man in his mid-twenties, rash and unlearned, and all the bondservants knew of it. Rekka tried to keep her clashed with him few, and fortunately seldom saw him at all. But then he had decided to sell the late, runt hatchling to the Stews. Rekka had helped this little one struggle out of his shell just before any hope of life died, and had been tenderly feeding her when she was pushed away from her mother by her larger, older siblings. Rekka's love for the dragon she had secretly christened Desert Flame always came first, but now there was more at stake. It might have been the hatchlings looks, brown green and runty, that made Jesiah Caron make such and impulsive bet, or that he was just rash and prideful, but more was on the line for Rekka. If the youngling won her first fight in the Pits, Caron would sponsor her and allow Rekka to be her trainer-and be with her at the fights, something the Carons never lets bond servants do, especially girls. His hopes may have faltered as the runt grew, though Rekka was still in a bad position. If Desert Flame lost, she would owe Caron her bag and all in it for the rest of her life. There was much more than one fight at stake, despite the fact that Flame was a beautiful fired and sunset colored Red.